Friday, January 03, 2014

home is where the parsley is

[click on title for full blog post]

Except for my unnatural affection for my iPhone and MacBook,  I pretty much live like it's 1957.

I listen to a transistor radio, hang my clothes to dry, read actual books, hand wash my dishes, and love my old refrigerator and stove. I'd totally raise chickens in the backyard if it wasn't for the occasional wild dog that wanders through. Or that fact that I had enough of feeding and watering and butchering and plucking chickens as a kid.

I've been getting fruits and veggies and other groceries delivered to my doorstep every other week for about a year now. I'm eating better and enjoy coming home to the Green BEAN green bin on my doorstep. Packing my General Electric 1950s fridge makes me happy and feel like a grownup homemaker.

It's about time, I guess.


Granny Annie said...

You can have farm fresh eggs from four hens in your own back yard by keeping them in a safe pen for Urban Chickens. Eglu from the UK is nice but expensive or you can look at theirs and make your own. Wouldn't you just love to go out each day and gather lovely brown, fresh, low cholesterol eggs for breakfast? You do not eat these girls because you name them and they are your family.

nora leona said...

Annie, I am so tempted! Of course on this -14 degree day (-35 with windchill) I'm pretty darn happy I'm not trying to keep them warm, because you know that I would bring them in the house!